


Silver + Steel

by queenventi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adorable FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Making Out, Post-Framework Universe (Marvel), but they're pretty innocent, only a little angst, prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches with a hint of pesto aioli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenventi/pseuds/queenventi
Summary: Fitz and Jemma have been working for hours on their newest project, and Fitz is starting to get frustrated.Really this is just minorly angsty fluff.This is my first story on here, and my first story of these two idiots, kudos and comments are welcome!





	Silver + Steel

"No! Jemma it's not cooperating and it's been too long," Fitz complained, hitting the table in a fit of frustration.

"Fitz, please relax. You say that every 10 minutes and we've barely been here an hour," Jemma tried to reassure.

"Jemma, we are bloody agents of whatever the hell this is and we can't do this in 40 minutes. How did we graduate from the Academy top of our class at the age of SIXTEEN with THREE Ph.D.s COLLECTIVELY and we can't find a suitable compound of bloody metals?" he said louder, angrily slapping the papers resting on the corner of the table tumbling to the floor. He walked to other side of the room, exasperated fingers threading through his (albeit short), curly hair.

"Oh Fitz, please just calm down. It's not as big a deal as you are making it to be and you know that," she reassured, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He squeezed it to acknowledge her presence, then letting go as she began to saunter towards the door.

"But you don't understa-"

"Nonsense. I'm hungry. And I think you are as well. Plus, you need a break."

"Jemma, it's not the appropria-"

"I think I saw some extra prosciutto," she coaxed in a sing-songy voice, already making her way out of the room.

Fitz stood and pondered the obvious pros and nonexistent cons to that situation (but if you asked him in front of Jemma, he could come up with some).

"Fine. But this time I'm making the pesto aioli. Last time you made it you got too heavy-handed and you ate more than half before any got on the sandwich," he recounted.

Jemma, who was in the doorframe, stopped and turned towards the man she loved. She approached him slowly, placing one hand flat on his chest and trailing the other from tangled in his short hair to his neck.

"If I remember correctly," she began in a low voice, "that ended very well for us, didn't it?"

Jemma was already smiling, her eyes twinkling with an extra dash of mischief and taunting. Fitz couldn't help the smile that made its way to his face, mirroring hers.

"I suppose it did."

She pulled his head towards hers and connected their lips. Honestly speaking, it wasn't at all soft or delicate or gentle.

Jemma _was_ hungry, after all.

They stood and kissed for what seemed like hours, hands running from place to place in a sensual dance while heartbeats were speeding in a synchronized pattern. Prior to each other, the two scientists had never felt such a belonging and trust between someone else. To be able to lose themselves in the other, yet find themselves. She had never felt so alive, he had never felt so loved.

"Love, love we sh...we...we should stop there for now," Fitz struggled, breaking the kiss. It was hardly a kiss anymore, however, as now he was down to her neck and she was kissing at his ear. Their arms were all over each other, relentlessly trying to grasp for more.

"But _Fiiiitz_ , this is _much_ more fun than the lab," she teased, wanting to continue their shenanigans, "or the sandwich."

"This is also a very public place and I admit to wanting food. And we need to...to fini...finish our work."

"You sound very distracted Doctor Fitzy, maybe we should just finish that work later and _this_ work right now," she suggested in a rather sultry voice.

"Jemma, thi-this is-mmm-important t-to me."

"Ugh...it's important to me too Fitz," she slowly conceded, the two of them finally easing off of each other, "but I still want food first."

Taking deep breaths, the two regained their strength and wind and joined hands to walk down the hall into the kitchen. They walked in comfortable silence the entire way there, Fitz's thumb constantly brushing against Jemma's knuckles.

It was one of the many habits he had adopted after returning from the Framework. That, as well as hugging her just a tad tighter than he did before, apologizing for things he hadn't been any part of, and obsessing over anything that had to do with him and his better half. Jemma was aware of these changes, and tried her hardest to just gently reassure him.

He was hers, but the Doctor wasn't him.

As they rounded the corner, she could tell that some of his stress was melting away just by being in the familiar room. He seemed to have gained an appreciation for the simplicity of these late nights when just they were awake (though they admittedly shouldn't be). It was one of the nights where she wanted nothing more than to hold him forever, to guarantee that she was going nowhere, to assure that this was the bliss they would experience together for the rest of their days.

"Alright, now," she broke the short silence, "we've got it all in here, somewhere."

They separated their hands for the first time in what felt like hours, Jemma taking the lead to look around for the sandwich's ingredients. Fitz remained in the doorframe, watching her open the fridge and pull out the fabled prosciutto and mozzarella.

"Well come on then, don't just stand there. You're the one complaining about my 'heavy-handedness' with the aioli that I make _only_ for you the way you _always_ ask for it. Truly, I don't understand why you decided to complain when _you_ asked for extra yet here-" she teased.

"I'm sorry," Fitz interrupted.

"You're sorry?"

"Yeah I-yes, I'm...sorry for...this"

"Fitz, you've not done anything wrong. I haven't a clue what you're apologizing for-"

"For all of this. For dragging you, _kicking_ and _screaming_ out of the comforts of our room where we were comfortable just to torture you with my perfectionism and over attention to miniscule details. And for making you fret now over how much bloody pesto aioli to put on a sandwich you've made perfectly for bloody years, Jemma. I can't even combine damn metals together correctly and that's something I've been doing for 2 _decades_ Jemma. I graduated from that damn Academy with a degree in combining metals. And now I can't even do that the right way. Apparently the only thing that I can do without mistake is murder innocent, good people," he spiraled.

Jemma stood silently, looking at the man she loved. That was another habit he'd picked up: spiraling.

After she hadn't responded to his outburst with more than a pitiful look, Fitz continued, "yeah, that's um...that's what I thought. I'll just...go back to the...uh...lab. I wouldn't expect me to be back in our room tonight. Maybe not any night for the rest of this week. This may...this may take a while to get to the model I have." Fitz gave one last look to his beloved before turning around, leaving a misty-eyed Jemma Simmons in his wake.

***

"No, no, no, dammit it Leopold!" he cursed at himself, furiously hitting the table for the fifteenth time since leaving the kitchen. Upon hearing his own voice calling him his full first name rather than... _theirs_...Fitz noticed his body subtly cringing, wincing at the harsh term. He had tried more possible combinations, none of which cooperated in the manner he wanted-no, needed-them to.

He made his way over to the stack of papers that held the various notes he had scribbled during his experiments. Upon holding the most recent one in his hand, Fitz realized that his hand had begun bleeding after being repeatedly hit in his efforts to release frustration.

"Bloody hell," he swore. He knew if Jemma were there with him, she would make a comment, joke about how it was more like "bloody hand" than "bloody hell". That thought was pushed aside.

Fitz ventured to the med bay, returning to the lab with a roll of the new cloth wraps that Jemma insisted Coulson acquired because they "catalyzed the healing process". He attempted to replicate the manner in which he had seen Jemma and Daisy wrap their own cuts and bruises, a feat that proved difficult for the overworked engineer. He attempted to return to his work, his bandage often getting in the way.

"Oh bloody-"

"You'll not get anything done wrapped like that, Fitz."

Fitz turned to see Jemma with a sandwich in her hands.

He turned his back to her, fiddling with some sample, "I'd have thought you would have gone to sleep by now."

"Ugh, please Fitz. We both know that's far from the truth."

"Yeah, well I think you should change that. You need sleep."

"As do you."

"No, I need to finish this. It was meant to be finished and perfect hours ago. I have failed for too long on this. It was supposed to be perfect to you, too. And again," he threw his hands up, exasperated," I failed."

Jemma tentatively approached him, gently wrapping his hand and saying in a reassuring voice, "you've done nothing of the sort."

"Oh really Jemma? Really? Then why am I still awake and down here working on this damn thing?"

"Because you're stubborn. And you don't like to listen to me when you know I'm telling you the truth. Come, let's go to bed, we can finish this in the morning. We can even refrigerate this sandwich for later. However, right now, you need rest."

"Jemma, I..." he began to explain, taking a deep breath and softly taking her arms, "I'm tired of disappointing you. In the Framework, I murdered an innocent woman. In cold blood. Right in front of you. I can't do anything correctly out here, or else I would have solved this current predicament a long time ago. The team's been fed up with my bloody fretting and obsessing and apologizing. I can't rest. Not when the people I care for and the person I love are disappointed. It isn't happening."

She took one more step forward, connecting their foreheads with both of them able to feel the other's breath on their lips.

"Fitz, listen to me," she instructed sternly, looking deep into his eyes, "you have done nothing to disappoint me."

She connected their lips with the same passion as before, leading him in a dance of love and fire. She touched his face gently, running her hands into his hair and back to his neck. He let his arms stay wrapped around her torso, holding her as close to his body as he could. They were both running out of air, but somehow being in each others' presence was enough to fill their lungs for twenty lifetimes.

After a while, he pulled back from the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers to maintain contact.

Out of breath, he began, "Jemma, I'm-"

"How about we finish working on this together, hmm? I'm not tired and you need assistance," she cut in, getting her thought in before he could apologize again, "besides, having double the brainpower will get the job done in half the time, right?"

"Jemma, that isn't how-"

"-yes, I know, I'm a biochemist."

He sighed, defeated, "You aren't taking no for an answer, are you?"

"You know me."

She kissed his lips one more brief time, then turned to the notes he had already recorded.

She sighed deeply, then admitted, "This is important to me too. It's important that we do it together, to our collective liking. Don't worry about making it perfect. We both know sure as hell that everything around us is far from perfect. We'll make them together, just like we do everything else." Jemma quickly found Fitz's eyes, smirking and winking.

He joined her in looking through the notes, taking them in his hand as she found all the metals he'd been combining and began experimenting herself.

"Jemma?"

"Yes?"

He walked over and took her hands in his own, kissing her knuckles gently. She blushed, her smile growing concurrently larger with his as they made direct eye contact, "you know I love you, right?"

"I could never forget it."

"You'll tell me the complete truth, right?"

"Fitz, you know the answer to that."

"I know...I know...but I have to hear you say it."

She removed her hands from his grasp in order to put his in hers.

"Leopold James Fitz, I promise to tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God," she giggled.

"Ok. Good...good...so, Jemma Anne Simmons, do you believe that we can and will do this together, as well as anything else that may result because of it? And that...uh...if I...we...were to not...completely...finish it tonight that you would think no less of it...or me?"

She took his head in her hands and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

"Absolutely."

"Then to bed it is for us."

***

Sure enough, one prosciutto-and-mozzarella sandwich with a hint of pesto aioli and a (relatively) full night's sleep later, Fitz and Simmons figured out their own personal perfect combination of metals for their engagement rings, and flaunted them for all around the base to see.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure some are like me and don't like when Fitz is referred to as Leo(pold). I purposely did that here! He's very angry at himself so I thought he'd be a little extra harsh and call himself that. I hope this wasn't too awful! Thank you for reading! <3


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